Dark Mysteries
by Suicide Blonde
Summary: In a town in New York, anything can happen. One viola clip led to him to her. When a shadowy, secretive composer becomes fascinated with a forensic scientist, strange events will start to occur.
1. Chapter 1: Of Mice and Cats

Disclaimer: I do **not** own The Phantom of the Opera. Anything copyrighted is not mine.  
A big thanks to _Musique et Amour_ for being my beta.  
Another big thanks to anyone I consulted with.

Now let us get on with the story...

* * *

Chapter 1: Of Mice and Cats

_"And in this labyrinth, where night is blind, the Phantom of the Opera is here, inside your mind."_

Somewhere in the town of Scarsdale, Christine Daae opened the door to her car and went into the vehicle. After closing the door, she put the key into the ignition and turned on the engine. Then pushing down on the gas pedal, she drove home from work.

While Christine drove out the lot, another car from afar drove out of the lot near the building where she worked and merged into the main road, following the brunette driver.

The two vehicles kept driving. In the little follow the leader game, the black Mercedes never let any car cut in front of him.

As the traffic light turned from yellow to red, Christine stopped at the intersection completely oblivious to the mysterious black Mercedes Benz sedan behind her.

In the car behind her, a man closely watched Christine. She appeared to be singing to something. He turned down Pachelbel's _Canon in D major_. After turning down the music, he still couldn't hear what she was listening to. Unlike college students, Christine Daee didn't blast music. Whatever she was singing, she appeared to be enjoying it.

Christine turned on the radio as Shania Twain's _Man! I Feel Like a Woman_ came on Lite FM. It was one of her favorite songs to sing along to.

"The best thing about being a woman is the prerogative to have a little fun and..." Christine sang along with the music, engrossed in the song. The light switched back to green, but Christine didn't notice until the car behind her honked.

Stepping upon the gas pedal she continued driving towards her destination, still unaware of her shadow.

Turning right upon a secluded road that cut through the woods, she admired the leaves that had started turning red and orange as the autumn plague spread throughout the woods. The days began to become chilly as October was slowly creeping up.

Though she saw lights of another car behind her, she paid no mind to it. Approaching Artista Lane she made a left, then turned right into Angel Court.

The mysterious car drove into the small development but only passed by Angel Court and driver took note that she lived in the green house on Angel Court.

_So this is where she lives._

The black sedan drove down the lane and into the next court on the left turning right and drove down Artista then back into the secluded street before disappearing into the darkness.

Christine parked the car on her smooth driveway and got out of the vehicle. She walked down the driveway towards the black mailbox and took her mail out. After collecting her mail, Christine walked back up the driveway to unlock her front door.

Christine Daae lived alone ever since her father, Charles, died six years ago. Since she gained ownership of the house, she decided to stay there although everything reminded her of her dad. Christine couldn't leave the memories behind. Even if she did sell the house, she knew she would regret it.

She lived in a humble house for a family of four.

Inside the house, there were four bedrooms. One of the four rooms was the master room, which was left untouched ever since Charles passed away. The second room was slightly bigger than the other two rooms, but not as big as the master room albeit it had its own bathroom also. The other two rooms and shared the same bathroom that was located between them.

Besides the four bedrooms, the house had a study where she did some work in and surfed the net. Next, there was the family room, which had memorabilia hanging around on the walls. That was where the upright piano was located along with the violin in its case. The kitchen, which was down the hall from the family room, was modern and clean. It had smooth, dark countertops and an island in the middle and was ideal for someone who liked to cook. After living alone for six years, Christine had learned how to make decent, edible meals. While acquiring cooking skills, she had also developed a fondness for cooking. Next to the kitchen, the small, modest dining room was used for special occasions.

On the outside, the house looked like a simple two-story house. There was nothing extravagant about it; it was painted green with white shutters and black shingles and had a double garage with a U-shaped driveway. A couple of dark emerald pine trees and other evergreen trees surrounded the property.

Christine stepped into the house and took off her shoes. Closing the door behind her, she then locked it. After placing her leather handbag onto the wooden end table, Christine slowly walked over to the kitchen with today's post in her hands.

She sat down in the chair and sorted through her mail. There was junk, phone and cell phone bills, and a letter from a distant cousin. Christine opened the letter from her kin and took out the message then began reading.

_Dear Christine,_

_Thank you so much for your birthday wishes. My birthday was fun. It was a pity you couldn't come. There's always next year. I've been doing fine. How's life? Is the laboratory life treating you right? I have to go now. Sorry for the short letter._

_Until next time,_

_Serena_

_P.S. Thanks for the birthday gift._

After finishing the letter, Christine folded it up and put it back into the envelope. She organized the pile and left it on the table. Then, she got up and walked towards the fridge. It was time for dinner.

Christine opened the fridge and rumbled through the produce container, deciding to make a healthy salad tonight. She took out her vegetables: romaine lettuce, tomatoes, cucumbers, and broccoli and carried them to the counter. Before working with the greens, she washed her hand with soap and water. She took out the cutting board and started chopping up her vegetables.

After finishing preparing her salad, she carried her meal to the table. She pulled the chair out and sat down going through her other mail as she ate. Once her dinner was finished, she returned to the kitchen to wash her dishes, then turned the lights off and headed towards the study.

* * *

Acquiring her work location had been simple. 

But what had attracted me was intriguing. I don't know why I was. Was it the possibility that I could train her? That she had potential to be amazing? Maybe because wasn't ordinary. She wasn't someone who just posted a clip of her singing or played some piece by Beethoven on the piano. Either way, I was interested in her.

She had posted a sample clip her playing a composition she had written for viola on the web. Along with her clip, she also posted her first and last name.

I went to Google and entered in "Christine Daae".

I browsed through the results. Clicking on thirteenth result, it led me to the web page of the Franklin Laboratory of Forensic Science. The page showed a list of people currently working there. I scrolled down. There she was.

_Miss Christine Daae  
Forensic Scientist  
Click here for her email address_

They even provided a lovely head shot for me. How nice of them. People were completely ignorant how one could find information so easily with just their last name.

I explored the website of the institute. It was located on Hanon Road near Crossing Park. The lab wasn't far away. In fact, it wasn't even out of town.

Her composition was simple. It wasn't too simple to be elementary, but it wasn't as complicated as what I had written in the past. It had a pleasing melody, but it needed more emotions. The vibrato was fine. Overall, it was okay. With a little more tutoring, she could be a lot better, especially if she learned how to convey emotions.

I clicked on her profile on forum website. She used her work email on the forum, which was the same email listed on the site. It only verified that she worked at the Franklin Laboratory of Forensic Science.

After that, I copied her address and sent an email to her.

Yesterday, I had saved the viola clip for future references. If I needed it for any reason, it would be there.

Tomorrow, I would visit 667 Hanon Road.

* * *

Christine turned on the computer and waited for it to start up. She logged in, opened up Mozilla Firefox, and went to Musicians United checking for anything new or intriguing. Finding nothing, she minimized the browser. 

She got out of her chair, pushed it in, and headed towards the family room.

After entering the room, Christine walked to the bookcase where her music books were organized according to the composer. Christine pulled out a music book and flipped to page 56, _The Flight of the Bumblebee_. She placed the book onto the stand and opened up her viola case.

Christine plucked the four strings to see if they were in tune. The A string was extremely flat so she turned the wooden knob to make it tighter. Christine plucked the same string again and compared it with the corresponding tone on the piano. _Better_, she thought.

She placed the viola onto her left shoulder and rested her chin onto the padding. With her right hand, Christine picked up the bow and started the play the piece.

She hadn't practiced in such a long time. Over the summer, she had gone on vacation and she had forgot about practicing. Christine wasn't that bad, but she wasn't playing to her full potential. Her playing was mediocre for her level.

When Christine finished playing the song, she closed her eyes and improvised. She didn't necessarily have the creativity to invent something beautiful, but the little tune she carried was still original.

After improvising for a period of half an hour, Christine eventually became bored of making random tunes up and placed the viola onto the piano stool along with the bow beside it. She opened up the case again and placed the viola back inside it then put the box into its spot. Christine closed the case and put it back next to the piano where it would be ready for the next time she played.

She had played and stood for half an hour straight. In those 30 minutes, anything could have happened.

Christine walked back to the study room where her computer was still turned on. Then, she sat in her comfortable chair shaking the mouse to turn off the screen saver. The black screen gradually switched back to the desktop and she clicked on the already opened Mozilla window. Then, she refreshed the page. Nothing interesting. She decided to check her emails since she hadn't checked her inbox in the last five days.

She entered her password into the query box and logged in as "cdaae".

There were two new emails.

One was from a fellow friend.

The other was from "Silentsolitude".


	2. Chapter 2: Midnight Muse

Disclaimer: Refer to 'Of Mice and Cats'.  
I'm terribly repentant that I kept my loyal readers waiting in suspense. Although this would be impolitic to mention, I finished writing this chapter more than a week ago. Because of that, here's an open invitation to hurt me, but this is only _possible _if you know where I live.

Oh, and thank you for all your beneficial reviews and support. It really helps.

Now on with the story. Je vous présente chapitre deux.

* * *

Chapter 2: Midnight Muse  
"Deep in the blossom of the gentle night is when I search for the light pick up my pen and start to write."  
- Nightwatchers

The email was titled "Viola Clip".

Christine didn't understand why someone would email her about a viola clip. She also didn't even know whom the email was from.

Because she didn't know the sender, Christine hesitated and pondered if she should open the email and read it or should she not. What if the email had a malicious virus that would crash her computer? She had important files on her hard drive that she did not want to lose because of naive curiosity. However, she wasn't in the mood to back up files onto a CD.

But she wanted to know what the email contained. As a child and now as an adult, Christine was always curious; it was one of her well-known traits.  
_  
There can always be some kind of code that downloads virus into it_, she considered.

She opened up the drawer and rummaged for a certain metallic item that would help her decide.

There it was, lying innocently on the bottom of the drawer. Christine picked it up using her index finger and thumb. She placed the quarter onto her thumb.

"If it's heads, open it. If it's tails ignore it." Christine said out loud to herself.

Flicking her thumb, she tossed the coin into the air. It flipped a couple times like a gymnast in the air as it went up a few inches and came back down. The quarter then hit the desk with a clang and fell to the ground.

Christine got out her seat and kneeled onto the floor. She examined the coin.

It had landed on tails.

Christine picked up the coin and placed back into the drawer. She sat down again and turned back to the computer.

Although it had landed on tails, Christine clicked on the email and opened it.

_Heck, I'll just pretend that was heads. It probably won't have a virus in it anyways._ Christine logically concluded.

The email hastily loaded. Simple black text in size 11 Veranda against the plain white background. According to the email, the sender's address was from Hotmail with 'silentsolitude' as its username.

_Interesting screen name_, Christine commented.

Concluding from the email address, she assumed the sender was a person who liked to be alone and was solemn and serious, someone who didn't like jokes and immaturity.

Christine then read the email silently to herself.

_Hello Miss Daae,_

_As you have presumed, I am emailing you about a viola clip. I listened to your piece and am interested in hearing any other recordings you have._

_Your most interested admirer,  
SilentSolitude_

_P.S. Reply promptly_

After reading the message, Christine couldn't remember anything posting a viola clip. Did she even put one on display for the public? But either way, Christine wouldn't be able to leave a prompt reply since the email was sent a day ago. Disregarding the email for the moment, Christine opened the next email. It was from one of Christine's closest friends, Meghan Giry or as Christine called her, Meg.

_Hey C,_

_We have to meet up sometime soon. Call me or something. Okay? Talk to you later._

_-Meg ;)  
_

Christine made a mental note to call Meg sometime soon. She switched back to the Mozilla window and refreshed the page. She decided to go explore the works of talented people and went to the _Original Works_ section of the board. When the page finished loading, the reason how anyone would be able to listen to Christine playing the viola was as clear as the dark blue sky outside in the atmosphere.

Starting from the top, the fourth thread down was started by the one and only "ViolaLove".

Now seeing the thread, Christine, with her memory refreshed, recalled posting the song. She had posted that clip of one of her original compositions for feedback about four weeks ago, but Christine forgot about it. The piece was composed a long time ago, and the clip was recorded two years ago.

Unable to listen to the mortifying simplicity of the melody and not wanting to refresh her memory of the song, Christine skipped the thread and went back to the email.

She hit the reply button to write a response back to the interested stranger. Christine thought about what she should write to this interested stranger. Pulling her hair back into a low ponytail, Christine came up with a reply.

_Dear SilentSolitude,_

_I see you have stumbled upon an atrocious viola piece by me. Sorry, I don't have anything else recorded. Although I can always go record something, I only have a few compositions. They're only a smidge bit complex than the one you heard. And just to let you know, I only compose as a hobby when I have an inspiration._

_Sincerely,  
Christine  
_

After looking over for any mistakes, Christine pressed send and was redirected back to her inbox.

Already in the inbox, the reply to Christine's email sat there looking ominously innocent.

The promptness of the reply surprised Christine. She didn't believe that someone could be that fast at responding, unless that person was anticipating for her email and was intent to reply.

Unlike last time, Christine opened the email without hesitation.

The email was short and frank.

_Do you use AIM?_

Christine was surprised with the seemingly random question; she did not expect that the reply to be so arbitrary and out of nowhere. Christine carefully thought about what she should respond. Did she want this person to be able to contact her on AIM? But it wouldn't matter because she only used AIM when she wanted to—mostly when she wanted to talk. She brushed the loose curls back and bit on her bottom lip.

_Chill, it's not he wants to be your friend or ask you out. He just wanted to know if you had more clips_, Christine thought.

Although her father has been dead for more than a year, six years to be precise, she still followed his rules. When Charles was still alive, he emphasized to never talk to people you do not know to his daughter. Christine believed in that, but now that her father was gone, she didn't feel that she really needed to abide to that. After all, she was an adult now and capable of taking care of herself.

After deciding to give her screen name to the intriguing stranger, Christine sent an email back with her screen name and stating that she did in fact use AIM. She then waited as she was being signed onto AIM. A pop up suddenly appeared as the buddy list finished loading.

The alert read, "Somber Harmony has IMed you. Do you accept?

"Assuming it was the same person who emailed her, Christine clicked on yes and the pop up turned into an IM window.  
_  
Somber Harmony (09:14:23PM): Hello Miss Daae_

The message gave her an eerie sensation.  
Christine felt weird being addressed "Miss Daae" since no one ever called her that regularly. Just as she finished typing her message and hit enter, another IM box popped up.

_WackyBLONDE101 (09:15:27PM): Hey. What's up babe? Did you get my email?_

After she answered yes, Christine switched back to the other box.

The mysterious person had asked if she played any other instruments and other sorts of questions and Christine answered him hesitantly. With all the interrogations, she felt like she was being analyzed like DNA being analyzed by her at work. If DNA was an organism, this must be how it feels when I stare at it, Christine aimlessly pondered.

On the other side of the conversation, Erik Destler was sitting behind his laptop typing away to his new acquaintance...

* * *

_So she only plays viola and has been playing for about 17 years_, I contemplated as I stretched out while sitting in my seat.

I took off my mask for it was becoming bothersome and placed it on my nightstand.  
_  
She is a rather interesting girl._

I then decided to ask her if she would mind recording something more recent for me. Resting my hands behind my head, I waited for her to respond.

_love4viola (09:21:52PM): Sure. I'll do it asap._

I wanted to see how good she was currently. She seemed like someone I could talk to about music, someone who actually knew other songs besides _Für Elise_ by Beethoven. A little contact with the outside world wouldn't hurt. After all, it wasn't as if I was going to marry her.

When I thanked her for fulfilling my minute request, she told me she had to go and signed off.

With nothing else to do, I put on my away message and went downstairs to get a glass of water. Who knew the lack of talking could make you thirsty?

Wrapping her conversation with her mysterious acquaintance, Christine shut down her computer and pushed the chair in. She turned off the lights as she exited the room, leaving it filled with complete darkness.

One by one, all the lights downstairs went out, making the entire first floor sinister and ominously silent.

Christine walked upstairs into her room. She changed out of her work attire and switched in her cami and plaid pajama bottoms. She then brushed her teeth. After keeping up with her dental hygiene, Christine shut the lights off and went to bed, resting for tomorrow's workload and waiting for what tomorrow would bring.

* * *

Unlike most people, who were sleeping, Erik was still awake in his room and worked on his new musical piece. It would be for viola, instead of his usual instrument, piano. Blowing the paper so he wouldn't be able to smudge the ink, he waited for the paper to dry. He looked over what he had written while humming the melody.

Erik turned to the side and looked at the clock. It was already one in the morning, but he had to finish this while the inspiration was still fresh in his mind.

Placing his pen back onto the paper, he scribbled some more notes. Because the pen ran out ink, Erik threw it into the wastebasket. He grabbed another pen on the desk and continued composing.

Currently, he had 76 measures written with 4 beats in each measure.

Erik continued to scribble feverishly.

After adding another 40 measures, Erik wrote the double bar to end the song. He then gathered the three music sheets together and placed them in a pile next to his other stack of music. Realizing his desk was in the state of disorganization, Erik sorted the mess, as he couldn't tolerate the disarray; everything had to be immaculate and tidy for him. He placed the writing utensils back into the cup of pencils and pens, and then took the randomly placed blank sheets of music paper and put it with the rest of the stack.

The digital clock now read 3:21 AM.

With the barest threads of fatigue reaching out for him, Erik walked downstairs with the empty glass from before and put it in the sink.

On his way back up, he caught a glimpse of his beloved piano in the dimly lit room. An idea came to him. Since he didn't play the tune and invented in his mind, he should test his new composition.

Seeing as he wasn't tired, he concluded he might as well go practice just to see how it would sound. After snatching the newly written music, Erik went back downstairs and into the music room.

Leaving the lights off, since the moonlight was adequate for Erik's night vision, he placed the music on the piano. He then played with his right hand without warming up, since it was not necessary for him.

Now that he heard it audibly instead of mentally, he felt that it needed more. He took the pen that was conveniently located on the grand piano and started extending the piece.

_It's better, but now it's three and a half pages_, Erik mused after adding more music. He always preferred music to have whole pages rather than end with a page half filled. It was like having one and a half cakes.

Deciding to make it four complete pages instead of three and a half pages, Erik carefully made sure it would end at the right place. He built up the dynamics and then ended the piece with a decrescendo so it would just fade into nothing instead of ending abruptly.

Now he mentally went through the song again. He next took out his favorite stringed instrument, the violin and placed it on his shoulder, assuming it was already tuned.

Not in the mood to stand, he just played it sitting on the piano stool with the music right in front of him at eye level.

_Perfect_, he thought as the last note faded.

When Erik finished playing, he decided he would write a piano accompaniment some other day. Erik then put away the violin. He next gathered the music together and placed it in a manila folder. On his way out of the room, he closed the door, closing it off to a certain black furry resident.

Learning from Ayesha's fond for instruments, specifically wooden stringed instruments, such as the violin, Erik had started closing doors to certain rooms so the feline wouldn't be able to scratch the instrument and cut the strings like as if it were its play toys. It started getting pricey to replace the damaged parts, as he had to keep fixing the beautiful instruments over and over again.

Erik then walked upstairs to his room. Once in his room, he changed out of his day clothes and into a pair of black yoga pants. He tied his black silk robe around him.

Glancing at the clock, he noted that it was 4:36 AM.

Slipping under the covers, he closed his eyes. He would sleep, but then only to wake up in three hours.

* * *

Oh, and I have no clue when the next chapter will be posted. But I definitely know I will finish this story. 


End file.
